


From the Air to the Ground

by LizzyBeff



Series: The Mark of a Warrior [1]
Category: Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Markiplier - Freeform, Youtube RPF - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:18:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyBeff/pseuds/LizzyBeff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A devastating plane crash leaves Mark  stranded on an abandoned jungle island. With himself and one other man's survival skills, how long will it be before chaos and disaster occur?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Air Above the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark contemplates life while on a plane.

What was Mark even doing on this plane? 

Flying overseas was relatively obnoxious to him and he hated it. The long periods of sitting crammed in a coach class seat, the connected flights drama, and the strange unknown people close enough to kill him were so unnerving. He looked out of the small rounded-rectangle window to see puffy white cotton balls lightly layered over a dark blue canvas of water. 

It had been two hours already and he could feel his left foot tingling with pins and needles. He shifted his gaze to see the snoring middle-aged man sitting next to him. He sat with his head slumped to the right in a pastel blue neck pillow, his sandy brown hair combed over a very obvious bald spot that seemed like it would glisten in the summer sun, his pale skin that hadn't seen such sun in years, and his cheap on-sale suit that he probably bought three years ago. All of these signs told Mark that he was the epitome of an average salesman who worked in an office that wouldn't make a difference in this corrupted world. He probably had a wife, two kids, and an annoying handbag-sized dog that his wife took care of. In Mark's mind, he didn't seem like a happy person, but one just existing to live out his boring life. Mark wondered: would he himself make a difference in this same dysfunctional place? The world seemed so unable to save now with its cruel mannerisms and unchanged tantrums throughout the years. The plane violently shook as it had many times before on this already long ride. 

"Attention passengers," said a British voice over the staticky radio. "We have been experiencing a tremendous amount of turbulence on this flight, which now means that we will be arriving at least an hour late." A series of groans and muffled swears shook the inside of the plane worse than wind outside of it did. "We're trying to avoid a pocket of wind that may alter the flight even more. We staff members are trying to find safe ways to make this faster, but currently this flight is expected to touch down in Boston in ten hours." With a click and a few more tired groans, the pilot was silenced and peace came over the inside of the plane. 

Even though it was around noon, Mark decided that all this stress was tiring him out. He situated himself so that he was comfortable in his chair and slowly shut his eyes like a shade would roll down a brightly lit window. His sight and thoughts divulged into darkness as he drifted off into a lazy midday sleep. This plane ride was about to get so much easier, Mark thought to himself. The plane shook once more as he left all his conscious feelings behind him.


	2. Down in Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark finds himself in the worst of situations.

"Wake up! C'mon man! GET UP!" Mark opened his eyes to see the businessman with one of his hands on his shoulder, shaking him violently back to realism of reality. The plane was shaking around him rapidly and the overhead breathing masks had been deployed. In his groggy state, he saw the man try to pull one over his face through his crusty, barely open eyes. As loud noises and screaming persisted, Mark swiftly woke up and pulled on a mask of his own as he looked around the inside of the plane. He saw a woman clutching her young son as he yelled. Mark watched her try to pull an air mask over his small panicked face as tears gathered in her eyes. He looked towards the front of the plane and saw and elderly couple breathing through their air masks, undisturbed and almost in sync. They sat calmly with their hands clasped together as if nothing were wrong. He heard numerous gasps and screams around the plane as the lights flickered and fizzled out. There was unorganized beeping, people sputtering for air, and the overwhelming sensation of chaos in the atmosphere around him. The pilot soon came over the radio. "Folks, we're going to be making an emergency landing. Please fasten your seat belts and remain calm. Everything is going to be okay if I, I mean we, remain calm. Please don't panic." 

Before the pilot hung up, Mark could hear the shakiness in the man's voice. And what was the word 'if' doing in his advisory? 'If I, I mean we, remain calm.' The words echoed inside of Mark's swirling head. What did he mean by 'if'? Could all of this really be avoidable if everyone was silent and still? He looked out the window beside him. Water seemed to be getting closer with every small breath he took. 

Everything was happening in slow motion. He watched as people cried, as more lights annoyingly flickered, and as small embers slowly floated past his face. His nose twitched as unnatural particles grazed his nostrils. He was in shock when he realized that he was smelling smoke around him, and looked up to see the foggy gray cloud above his and all the other passengers' heads. Mark could feel the plane jerking and heading downwards like he was free falling in the open air. His back was sucked into his seat while he watched baggage fall out of the compartments above his head and fly back to the end of the plane. He heard children and adults screaming in unison like a chorus of Hell-bound soloists wanting to sing a final song, battling for the loudest part available. They screamed at varying pitches and for different lengths while they faced their demise head-on. 

"Shit... No, no..." Mark said slowly. He was going to die right here in this moment without saying goodbye to anyone. He would lose his family, his friends, and his fans. He was young and had so many more plans to fulfill and so many more videos to make, and it just didn't seem fair that he would leave this world so early. He didn't even have a will written up. What would happen to his fan base? Would they remember his legacy? Would he become a martyr? How would his family take the news? Would anyone ever know what happened to him, or this plane rather? There were so many unanswered questions that he thought would remain so. Mark knew that he would die one day, but he never pictured it in this such way. 

As the world appeared to move slower and slower, Mark remembered all the good and the bad that had happened in his life during that small yet intuitive instant. He blinked and sunk his fingers deeper and deeper into the soft seat fabric around him as he had been doing unnoticeably this whole time. His eyes were getting wetter by the nanosecond. He soon felt the warm tears race down his face as he turned to look at the yelling man next to him. The man was shouting at him, and not the empty space around him. 

"Dude! You- you need to-to put your seat belt-" And with that, Mark was knocked unconscious by a bar of metal as the plane around him split into two parts. His body soared to the back of the plane as it came down hitting some trees and becoming a mangled mess on a bed of thick green foliage. The front of the plane launched forward and splashed down into the deep blue ocean. It sunk rapidly, creating bubbles on the surface around it. The back of the plane, while mostly intact, set the surrounding area ablaze. As the sun was setting off in the distance, the brilliant hues of yellow and orange were no match to the glowing fire of the newly engulfed wreckage. Black smoke rose higher into the sky, setting up a beacon for the new strange island that witnessed and now housed the tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to post every Friday from now on. Thanks for reading!


	3. The Smoke in Our Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark wakes up.

Mark woke up to the smell and taste of ash. He slowly opened his eyes to see the clear blue sky above him and small white sea-birds gently caressing the breeze with their soft feathered wings. Where was he? Was this some sort of afterlife? He turned his head to see the grayness of burned plants around him and took in a big breath of the contaminated air. He hacked and coughed, for such air was not meant to be breathed. It was the smell of gasoline, campfire, ash, and another horrid smell that he just couldn't figure out. He sat up as pain shot through his right leg, its epicenter right around his knee. He yelped in pain as he removed what seemed to be a square meter of plane metal off of his concealed leg. 

What Mark saw next was devastating. It made his stomach turn and his throat start dry-heaving. His leg had been impaled on a sharp piece of shrapnel buried in the small patch of sand around him. It was a few inches in diameter, and it stuck out about three inches from his skin. It was a deep crimson color with a tarnished shininess. As he tried to move it, he screamed in pain. "Fuck!" he exclaimed while trying to pull his leg off of the rod. It hurt so badly and felt so horrible. As he moved it, more blood spurted over the cream colored sand around him. He would have to think of a plan to free himself of this horrible entrapment. 

Mark tried digging the piece of metal out of the sand. It was stuck fast to something unseen underground. He tried to see if he could cut it with anything nearby. Nothing was available. He came to one conclusion: he had to manually pull his leg off of the bar. He ripped off a large piece of his cotton shirt to make a bandage for his wound. He psyched himself up and felt the adrenaline pump through his veins. 

"Here goes nothing," he said with small tears in his eyes. The pain was already so unbearable, and it was about to get one hundred times worse. 

He pulled his leg up with both hands as he readied his makeshift tourniquet. Fireworks of blood shot up every second or so as the leg got closer and closer to the top of the rod. Mark screamed in pain as he felt his tendons and muscles reject the force of his palms. He breathed rapidly and took in short hard gusts of air. With another small tug, his leg came off of the thing that was keeping him there. He swiftly fastened the shirt piece around his leg as he swore in pain. All of it was so bad. It hurt. 

He sat on the ground, lamenting what he had just done. He cringed at the sight of his wounded leg. Blood was already soaking the piece of shirt and dripping to the ground below him. The sand around him was as red as a rose. Tears poured out of his eyes as he realized the tragedy of his situation.

Mark tried to see the area that surrounded him. He tried to turn his head to see the wreckage around him to no use. He would have to turn his whole body around to see the horror show that he had been in. 

This was it. 

Mark was going to stand.

He would have to put most of his weight to one side as he stood, but he could do it. 

"SHIT!"

\-------------------

"Hello?" Yelled Mark as he hobbled towards the plane. His nose felt like it was being assaulted in the worst way possible. Hell, his nose would vomit if it could. The air smelled worse than anything you could find in a thirty year old dumpster that had never been cleaned out. It was even more foul than said dumpster if it sat out in the sun its whole existence. 

Mark got nearer and nearer to the sorrowful sight that had been so many graves to so many people from all around the world. He could see the opening in the tube smoking. There were no crackles of fire. There was only pungent smelling air from a mixture of smoke and corpses.

"Oh God.." Mark said as he limped closer to the shell. He saw what he feared the most. 

Death himself was rising from the ashes and running toward him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm trying to work on this more often. I'd really enjoy some feedback! Thanks again!


	4. Chapter 4: Death's First Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark can't really be alone, can he?

The shadow came forth like a hell-beast from the underworld. It had only been a day since this tragedy happened. Regardless, Mark was ready to give up. He was starving, thirsty, and overheated. His leg was somewhat infected and he knew that being able to stand and move on it was a miracle in itself. The shadowy figure came towards him through the smoke. This was it. The end of the line. 

"Hello?" A voice called from within the smoggy tube. Could it have been the wind?

Mark was astonished. Maybe someone else had survived with him. 

"Hello?" The voice shouted again.

Mark tried to holler back, but his voice was too weak. His lips and throat were dry as sand. 

"Is anybody there?" the voice called through the smog. Mark saw the man emerge from the grayness that was death. "Holy shit!" The man exclaimed as he ran toward Mark. 

Mark did not know what to do. Should he run? Should he greet the stranger? He felt so dizzy. 

The man was right in front of Mark. He had sandy brown hair that fell to his shoulders and a chinstrap beard that highlighted his jawline. He wore a green t-shirt with jeans cut off at the calves. His face and the front of his shirt were soaked with blood.

"Dude, you don't look okay. Please don't faint! Hang in there!" The mysterious man ran back into the plane. 

Mark rocked back and forth on his feet. He was seeing double. He'd lost so much blood from the hours before. It looked like there was nothing that could save him.

Suddenly, the man was back from the plane with a half full bottle of water. "Drink up," he said, "and if you are strong enough I'll take you back to my camp. I'm Joe by the way."

"I'm Mark," Mark said weakly as he started to sip water. "I need to sit down." 

"Okay," Joe replied as he helped Mark to sit on the sand. 

In between sips, Mark asked questions. "Where is your camp?" He said a little bit stronger.  
"See those trees over there?" Joe said as he pointed to a strip of trees near the back of the plane. "It's behind those. I've made a hut and a fire pit and I even managed to find some food. After you are well, I'll help you get over there."  
"Alright." Mark replied half heartedly. He knew it would be a struggle just to stand again, let alone walk to a camp that seemed so far away.   
"Hey," remarked Joe snarkily, "it's better than sitting in the sand all night to be hunted by who knows what on this island."

Island? Was this place really an inescapable prison surrounded by water? Mark thought this could have been a coastline. All his hopes of getting back to his friends and family were swiftly crushed. Tears welled up in his eyes. His moment of relief was gone.

"Your leg doesn't look so good," said Joe with a mysterious smile. We should probably put something better than that wrap on it."

"Thanks, captain obvious! Your such a genius," Mark retorted in an overly sarcastic tone.

"Hey," said Joe snorting from laughter. 

Joking was good for the men. It helped them to forget what a horrible predicament they had been in. They talked for a while about their lives, families, and troubles. It was the beginning of a new friendship.

Mark then decided to ask the question that had been troubling him when he first met Joe. 

"Hey, Joe?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you covered in blood?"

Joe got kind of jumpy at the question. "I went hunting. There are some wild deer on this island. I tracked them and ended up killing some for food. Speaking of which, I hope you're not a vegetarian. That's all I have."

The sun was starting to set over the ocean. It was a gorgeous scene with pinks, oranges, reds, and purples in the sky. 

"Okay then," Joe exclaimed. "It's about time we start heading to my camp. We won't be able to find it if it's dark out."

"Okay," groaned Mark tiredly. With one last exclamation of curses, he stood up with the help of Joe. The man supported his back as Mark gained his footing.

"To the camp!" Joe shouted enthusiastically. Both men headed towards the trees slowly. 

As Mark and Joe sluggishly made their way, the plane got closer and closer. A new question finally struck his mind as if Zeus had thrown a thunderbolt at him. When they got arms-length away, Mark's curiosity expanded far beyond his own reach. Where had all the bodies gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read!


	5. Smoked Veal and Potatoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Mark have a conversation whilst preparing for dinner.

The fire was glowing brightly. It made Mark happy to feel warm and safe. Quickly, the two men drummed up a light hearted conversation.  
"So, Joe," Mark asked, "how did you manage to build this place?" He looked around in amazement at his surroundings. He was sitting on top of a large fallen tree's log that made a wonderful bench.

"Well," answered Joe with pride,"I am a survivalist. I went through tons of survival camps and nature manuals. From those I learned what was edible, what to be careful about, and how to build a structure. It's really quite fascinating. It also helps that I'm certified with an EMT license."

An EMT? Mark never imagined such a man as Joe to be saving people in the back of ambulances. To picture him in a uniform gave Mark a slight chuckle. 

"What are you laughing about?" said Joe with a smile.

"Did you tie your hair back in a ponytail when you worked?" asked Mark with a quivering grin. 

"It was actually in a short braid. Why is this-"

Mark let out a deep hearty laugh. "My god,"he exclaimed between a deep wheeze of air. "That's fucking hilarious! With a braid-Wow!"

"You know what's not fucking hilarious? That bump on your head and that infection on your leg. Change your wraps." Joe tossed mark a roll of medical gauze. "So how did you survive the crash? You said that you awoke on the sand fifty feet away from the plane. "

"That's true," said Mark as he wrapped his wounds. "I woke up and felt immediate pain. So I tried to sit up, but then I couldn't. There was a piece of metal on my leg, and I moved it to find my knee stuck on a damn pike. I tried putting a piece of shirt around it. I tried to stand on it, but the pain overwhelmed me and I passed out."

"Shit... That means you pulled your leg off of the metal. You did it by yourself?"

"Yes. I was so hungry this morning that I just wanted something to eat. Trying to catch fish was out of question, hunting was a crazy idea. So I used all my determination to get to the plane. Then I saw you."

"It's destiny! The universe wanted to put us together for a reason!" mocked Joe making kissy lips. 

Mark cringed.

"That explains what happened to your leg, but what happened to your head? That bruised bump is gigantic."

"I don't remember exactly," concluded Mark while he finished wrapping his knee in gauze. "So, how did you survive?"

"I passed out. I was overtaken with emotions as the plane went down. Next thing I know, there's fire all around me and bodies everywhere. I got lucky. Real lucky." 

"You could say that again" retorted Mark. "So how'd you find all this stuff?"

"After I was awake, I got out and looked around. I decided to take from the plane whatever I could find. There were bags full of things, so I just pulled most of them to safety. I just feel bad for all who perished. I felt so guilty when I took their things." Tears welled up in Joe's eyes. "But hey, survival of the fittest I guess. I managed to find my suitcase and things. I have a filtering water bottle that is used to remove particles in stagnant water. I got it as a souvenir from my last survival trip."

"That's pretty cool. So are we going to get the food cooking or what?" Mark impatiently tapped his foot. 

Joe turned to Mark. "Sorry for all this jibber-jabber. I'll go get the food. Can you set up the makeshift spit so we can cook this meat?"

"Yea. I guess I can," Mark replied stubbornly. He picked up the forked sticks and stuck them in the wet dirt far away enough from the fire so that they wouldn't burn. The stick that the food would go on was sharp enough to stab someone. 

"Score!" Yelled Joe from a few bushes away. He triumphantly carried back a large chunk of meat in his arm. "Look!" he said with excitement as he lifted his left hand. "Potatoes!"

If only Jack were here, Mark thought. How would the Irishman react when he found out about the plane? About Mark? Did he even know what happened? The new questions were crippling. They led him back down into the spiraling torment of depression and all the other emotions that came with it.

"Hey, why the long face buddy?" asked Joe as he stuck the meat on the spit stick. "It's really not that bad."

Mark's rage bubbled up inside him. How dare Joe to be so happy about this horrible thing! "What do you think, Joe? We're stranded on a fucking island without anyone but each other! We don't know where we fucking are! We have no friends or family who know where we are, and they're probably worried sick! So you might be fine, Survival Man, but I want to get off of this fucking island!  
This may seem like fun to you, but it's torture to me! Did you see that we are surrounded by ocean?! I fucking hate the ocean! If we try to leave we will be eaten by a huge monster from the deep! There is no escape! We will be here forever! I have a life besides this you know!" Mark put his head in his hands. He took shallow breaths and started crying. A few moments later, he realized what he'd just done. "I'm sorry." he uttered as he looked up at Joe. 

"Listen,"said Joe as he slipped the potatoes onto the spit with the meat. "No. I... I'm sorry. I had no reason to ask you that question. I'm not the best at picking up emotions. And you said that you had no friends or family on this island? Well, you're my friend. I don't know if I occupy the same role as you do to me, but I'd like to hope so." Joe finally finished putting on the four potatoes. "So, I'm sorry, Mark, for setting you off. Friends?" Joe raised his fist.  
Mark fist bumped him and wiped off his wet face.  
"Friends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read! I really appreciate it!


	6. A Possible Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Mark be stranded with Joe forever?

After a filling meal, Mark headed into a spacious tent-like collection of leaves, branches, and stones. Joe had built a shelter that was big enough for the both of them. They sat on the ground covered by green palm leaves that were surprisingly warm. The wind howled, the waves crashed, and crickets chirped. It seemed as if the peace could never be broken. Aside from the swirling thoughts in Mark's head, this place had everything to be paradise. 

"Hey," whispered Joe as he came into the front of the shelter.

"Why are you whispering?" Mark asked quietly. 

"I don't know," answered Joe in full volume. "Here." Joe handed Mark a heavy bag. "These will help us stay warm in the night so we don't have to spoon." Joe made another cringe-worthy face. 

Mark opened the bag. Inside it were coats, shirts, pants, socks, and other assorted clothes. They came in an array of colors and were lightly dusted with what seemed to be ash. A few of them were splattered with blood. 

"Thanks, Joe." replied Mark tiredly. 

"Sorry if they don't fit. Whatever we have, we have. " Joe shrugged. He then exited the tent. "I'll be back shortly. I've got to take a leak."

"I didn't need to know that, Joe!" Mark shouted loudly as Joe walked away. He looked again inside the bag. It was made of burlap and looked like it had contained the potatoes that he had eaten for dinner. He noticed something familiar sitting on the top of the pile. It was the pinstriped suit jacket of the businessman who sat next to Mark when the plane crashed. It was torn and had a sleeve missing. Mark closed the bag. He no longer wanted to wear the clothes or the memories associated with them.  
\---------  
"Would you just look at them and stop arguing with me?" Joe was pestering Mark into oblivion. 

"I don't need to see the stars. I know what they look like. Now let me sleep."

"C'mon, City Dweller, come outside and look. They're absolutely fascinating. There's also a full moon! Come look!"

Mark grumbled as he poked his head out of the tent. 

"Lay on your back and look up! You've got a clear shot!"

"I don't know what the big dea-" Mark gazed upon the midnight sky. It was literally breathtaking. Celestial bodies were organized with perfection as he admired the complexity of it all. Flecks of blue and white peppered the sky as if competing with the full moon to see which was brighter. The ocean water sparkled with the reflections of them and made it look like the sky had melted from it's perch, just desiring to be swum in.

"I haven't remembered in a long time how huge the sky was," Mark gaped.  
Shooting stars and blinking celestial miracles filled him with wonder. It was beautiful. This island might be worth staying on for a little while after all. 

How bad could it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for part two! Thank you for taking the time to read this.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction on this site. I'd like to receive feedback if it's not to much to ask. If you actually read this, thanks!


End file.
